


The East End's Predicament

by yourstrulyabean



Category: The Ultimate Sidemen
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourstrulyabean/pseuds/yourstrulyabean
Summary: In 1960s London, Gib lives  a post-match life after a devastating loss in a drag race against Jake Paul. Gib and those connected to him are warped into a locus of trials and tribulations.A further summary:Gib lives a post match life after losing a race (ex.Drag Race) to a ruthless competitor, Jakob Paul. With Gib now having limited money at his hands to live comfortably along with his best mates, Josh, Tobi, And Max as well as popularity. He is still succumbed to the life of crime in his native East London especially with the Rifles from the West End now at their tail. Jakob Paul, Gib's distant rivalry, is also on the run and finds him at his doorstep in hopes of Gib hiding him from crime. Gib is later conflicted with himself and everything he knows about himself. How will he protect a fugitive, his mates, and his town from the Rifles? Or will he have to choose?
Relationships: AnEsonGib/Jake Paul
Kudos: 3





	1. One: Shining Night August 7th, 1968

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!!
> 
> I do make attempts to use old fashioned language and Cockney Slang in this. Bear with me here, 
> 
> Auntie Ella= umbrella  
> cats= flat/house  
> peckham=tie  
> whistles=suit  
> BoBeep-sleep  
> and MAJOR REMINDER!! Here are the featured characters
> 
> The Rifles= JJ, Vik, Josh Bradley, Ethan  
> Gib's mates= Maxplays (YT: Eion Maxwell), Tobi Brown, TheBurntChip as Josh 
> 
> His brother= Iswift on YouTube 
> 
> And yes, I matched all of them into different groups instead of putting all the sidemen groups into one.
> 
> Another Reminder: The first chapter is pretty much about the aftermath of his loss.

One: Shining Night  
August 7th, 1968

“What’s with all the ‘hush hush’ and ogles? Listen, I’ll like me a fresh lemonade, cold too. Otherwise, move along bastards!”

The peers and whispers were only the beginning and perhaps it won’t be long before a loud shot hits a passing bird. I just might do it after all. I haven’t fiddled with the old Jack in about 30 daylights. You’re a fine killer Jack, aren’t you? My pistol, to which I crowned him the name ‘Killer Jack’. I eyeballed the old killer with full discern. I am fully aware of your need to show off your stinking cool self, though, my mates and I have pockets filled with pounds to spend on this shining night. No, really. Lights were surrounded all around the room and outside of the building too. Big billboards, fancy- bold writing, and that. And the light’s we can’t forget. Simply shining about. We sat at a fancy theatre in West Minster. It was Gilda, what we were watching. Fine Lady Hayworth, I’d like to call her.  
“The next vex in the room, being all brick and bold, will get the shiny foot up the arse, yes? I’m trying to watch me some Lady Hayworth here. And we’ve got people acting a damn fool” Before I could continue,  
Tobi, my mate, stopped my tracks.  
“As much as I would like to pitch in with the roughening up, perhaps we keep the foot-to-arse business to ourselves. Just until all of this is over” and Josh added “ C’mon now, I want to rough someone up too, yes? Leave it out, will ya? Rita is about to do her little performance.” He’d try to keep me calm on this shining night, with great fortune in our hands.  
And at that, I sat steady and ready to eyeball the woman with full discern. In spite of being all and ready to bring Old killer Jack out, it’s already been so long since I’ve shown his potential. Strange, is it? I’ve kept him away because it would do me good. Old killer Jack made his last appearance during the early days of July, the wild month. Rotters, they have plenty of them in the West and like rotters, they can be something of a barney as they come around the East End for one. It may be a good reason to bring out Old killer Jack but that isn’t the reason why I stopped using it. Now, my fellow mates, all you’ve got to know is now it’s the old hand and foot method I’ve got to use now.

I haven’t shrugged it off quite yet, if there was anything else in the world I hated more than injustice and green tea, it was dismissal. It utterly nauseated me the way everything was dismissed as it was. If I wanted to rough someone up, I wanted to do it now-- Dismissal isn’t necessary and how everything can go about like nothing ever happened, is what truly baffles one.  
Although, with my eyeballs now glued to the wide square, Lady Hayworth is quite the fit, isn’t she? Black is the color suited in her favour, indeed. By then, it ended. My three mates and I stuck around the corridor for some reason.  
“Where to, now?” Max said. Truth is, I didn’t know where we were heading to next. I’m not one to plan nothing on nights like these when you’re out and about in the West End. But when you have bread as light as a feather and numbers that scale up to twice the weight of a bodybuilder. We may as well go berserk with it, yes?  
“I don’t know. We’ve still got bread. The night is still young. I guess we'll fill our mouths.”  
“The Means Cafe two blocks down the road doesn’t look too bad. You’ve seen their waffles, haven’t you? Most delectable thing on the face of earth” Tobi went on about. Josh proceeded to note that he sounded five again. “Strange, isn’t it? Coming from the lad who wouldn’t zip it about the special ribs and steaks at Lizzle’ N Stakes.”  
“Hush it, will ya? I’ll have you know, Tobi, those barbecued coated ribs and steaks are probably much tastier than what that Cafe’s waffles has to offer.”  
“I guess we’ll have to find that out now, shall we?” Tobi retorted

“Listen, quit bickering about food, yeah? We’re standing around like a bunch of prostitutes waiting to be picked up by some grubby bloke.” Max said. Though he sounded a bit knackered himself. He wasn’t wrong, alright. We stood around like an open card display, waiting to be fiddled with. Shirts tucked in our pants, grey trousers, a peckham ( in which we never keep untied or have it appear raggedy and disheveled in the slightest way, that is unless we're doing the old hand and foot method I mentioned earlier, yes?) , hair combed back and for Tobi he’d keep it brushed and clean as his hair tends to be much thicker than the rest of ours. Although, people did have the mere tendency of touching his hair which really seemed to be a common thing for all thick haired people. Though, it was nice to receive some sort of attraction right now, yes? Not that I already don’t. I most certainly do. Right now, I really am just a main attraction of public critics and even passerby critics, so as I encountered earlier. As well as making a stinking appearance in newspapers. There were many more headlines to come and many sitting on my porch at this very moment. You can see others reading them too. **“American Entrepreneur, Jakob Paul Takes Triumph In Drag Race Against Gib ‘The Seven Figure Gibber’ ”**. Big and bold. And it’s all because of that accursed drag race I partook in against some American bloke.

“Listen, we’ll go get something to munch on. The cafe doesn’t seem too bad of a ponder, yes?” On a shining night like this, waffles and coffee is something I’d hit for. Josh complained about my choice. I told him we can go another time because if I truly wanted to eat at both places, I would. My stomach can house boatloads of food, believe me. Josh answered with a rather disappointing remark.

“ If there is another time.”

We headed out for the exit and out on the pavement of Leicester Square. Lights and that. We walked just about two blocks down and a few steps away from the Means Cafe. All was calm before I caught a snide yet distant remark. “Don’t crash again! You might just fracture another finger!” Surely, it may be only the beginning of the snarky remarks but I’m not one to put up with the mickey’s. At least not this very evening.

“ How about you come over here and utter that, you bloody rotters!” I thought about charging at them but that is, of course, if they come and get their special delivery of a shiny leather shoe and two fists. Max joined in on the mini altercation “Yeah! You ought to get going now, damn rotters.”  
And so Josh with the Yeah’s and stretching his arms intimidatingly and then Tobi standing, watching us like idiots. Perhaps he didn’t want to risk it. We entered the Cafe and just as we were about to sit down, I uttered “Rotters, am I right?” I haven’t shrugged it off quite yet. I told you, dismissal isn’t my que.  
“Yeah, rotters they are. It’s only been a week, their lady isn’t home or what?” Josh exclaimed.  
Though, Tobi made a rather sensible addition to his remark “That’s the bug. It’s only been a week, they’re not going to forget an event as big as his so quickly.”  
I wanted to believe that people forgot things in a week but that isn’t quite the case, Tobi was right. It’s only been a week, people aren’t going to forget. Outcomes like mine never die out unless you’re of a highly respected status or perhaps you pick lice out of people's heads for a living, otherwise, you’re a laughing stock.  
“It’ll die out, no worries. If it doesn’t, then what the hell!” Max said. I don’t know what to do, and I’m not going to do anything. I’ll live the same way as I did before. I don’t understand why my life has to be over because of a so-called loss. I concluded “Forget it. Pointless, is it? Forcing this whole thing to slip. We’ll move on. I’ll move on.”

“So if you say.” Josh took the response, with an accepting sigh. Not the encouraging type, but rather taking into acceptance what I have to say, whether they agreed or not. And so they all sighed or looked off to the table in acceptance. “Well, if you change your mind. We can always find another way to settle this and besides what’s the worst that can happen?” Tobi said.  
What is the worst that can happen? Perhaps I did a bit much on the ponder. A bit much? My inner instincts echoed. Alright, you’d like me to sniff your behind too? Surely, I might’ve gone a bit wayward dealing with the bold remarks, but who is going to put those stinking rotters in their place, yeah? It was reasonable and conscious Gib can’t prove me wrong. Wrong I say. Logically, what is the worst thing that can happen? Other than people hollering at me in the streets and the mocking. They’re not going to rough me up, they wouldn’t dare.

“I guess you’re right. What are they gonna do? Rough me up? Preposterous.”  
“That’s only if they want to go home without proper functioning of their limbs.” Josh said, laughing and then we all laughed.  
“Let’s shrug this off, yeah? My stomach is like an empty cave in here.” I said, we’d all look at the menu. Discerning every image of waffles, beverages, and whatnot. Tobi would get all worked up when he saw the waffles. Josh and Max remained neutral, however Josh’s eyes are like an open theatre billboard and it’d simply read “I reckon Tobi could be right about the luscious appearance and probably the delectability of the waffles and I might be wrong about the rib and stakes being better” Then, the waiter would approach our table “Alright?”  
5’10, plump, white shirt and apron, fair skin and patchy facial hair, and someone you’d likely see working as a butcher. We all answered with“Yeah, yeah.” We then ordered. I ordered two waffles with whipped topping and syrup and black coffee with sugar as I always prefer. Max ordered an egg and cheese on an english muffin with regular coffee. Neutral pick. Josh decided to order the waffles, as well as Tobi to see if those waffles were as delectable as they appeared. He put the bill on our table and we thanked him. We ate silently and munched about which was strange but perhaps it was one of those off moments. Goodness me, this coffee is quite the taste. I’m not sure if I could say the one I make is a lot better but I have to admit, this is delectable. Very delectable. I looked over to the window on our left. People walking by and wearing the finest clothing of our age. Fresh suits and fancy dresses with jewelry and some with fur coats. Living on the poorer side of London, such clothing would mean you’re of good fortune. You’ve either worked day and night or your husband is filthy rich. Public artists were out and about, too. I couldn’t spot any musicians but I spotted a mime artist, miming about. That was of course before some grubby bloke began making sheep's eyes at the mime artist and attempted to make romantic advances to this mime.

“Shame to break this locus of pleasure but take a look to your left”. They looked puzzled but then laughed at how silly this looked “Ha! He’s trying to get it with the mime.” Josh said, laughing.  
“I guess mime’s are the type on this side of London.” Tobi jokes. West London is a place of wonder, indeed.  
Then, Max’s serious face turned into laughter, he’s laughing now. The fool is choking on his coffee and I began laughing some more. “Settle down there before your demise comes quicker than that grubby bloke there. Mimes are gang members disguised in makeup and a striped shirt, no kidding.” We continued to bubble out. The mime ended up running away, perhaps to not break his cover. We ate about silently and Josh’s eyes narrowed as he savored the waffle's taste, almost as if a mad scientist breaking a discovery.

The waiter came back again. I wasn’t sure why and I can’t think of why. He’d already given us our bill and we couldn’t have been too loud with the laughing. And so far what it seems to me is that waiters here are a lot different than the ones we have in the East. They’d only tell us to be careful walking on a particular street during certain hours or to clean after our bloody mess before we leave. Despite it being their job. The waiter held something in his hand that looked like a newspaper. Couldn't see clearly, his hands are humongous. I’m certain it was a newspaper.  
“Hello there, young man. I was reading the newspaper as I haven’t for quite a bit. Extra work hours and stuff, you know.” Right off the scone, I knew where this was heading. His eyes wide open like a child getting their favourite toy, eyes so full of wonder. That smile too. What's getting you all worked up there, geezer?  
“It’s come to my attention that you might be the Seven Figure Gibber who partook in the same race against Jakob Paul.”

I may as well be grateful. The only encounter which, so far, hasn’t gone left.

“Well, why yes I am.” I said, smiling wide. Acting a gent. He seems nice, a nice bloke he is. It’d be a shame if this’d gone out the window.

“Goodness gracious, it’s really you. Welcome, young man.” The waiter said, with such surprise. I was flattered and a bit surprised too. However, surprise shouldn’t take a role in this. Flatter should.

“I harbour a real fascination for drag racing after this. I thought nothing of it. Nothing! You introduced a new sport to me, nowadays or as an oldie like I, you can never find anything else that’ll keep your eyes from shuttering closed during breaks. Hell! Even during work hours.” The waiter seemed serenaded by the idea of a drag race, I felt even more flattered. That somehow, I brought a sport to this man which really seemed like a bridge of triumph, status, and money to me. Money I was not going to use solely for myself. My pockets are filled, and unto my mates. The waiter's eyes illuminated the entire time.

“Oh how I am honoured, sir. Now that you have found a sport to engage in, I couldn’t be any happier for you” I gave a gentleman gesture to the man. It’s not very often I come across a proper bloke. Especially around this area.

“Indeed, I have. Life and work around here can kick you high up the shin but with good sports and fizz, there’s nothing like it!” I chuckled and smiled. He was a bit different from the other people we’ve met here and I've only been around here 3 times in my life, counting this one too. People from the West End of London have come around my end and keep a rather snobby demeanour which really gives the people in Hackney a reason for them to make them a target and eventually rough them up. Though, something about this lad makes me think he was raised somewhere in the East at least some point in his life. His voice however speaks rotter. I said as a quick resort ‘Yeah, yeah’.

“It’s quite a bummer how it ended. I’m glad you’re alright, mate.” At that, I remembered how it all ended. Quite a disappointment but it wasn’t a disappointment after all in some way. I received loads of pounds and I’ve got my mates sitting right around me so it wasn’t so bad.

“Yes, quite a bummer it is. But hey, I’ve got all four of my limbs working so can I get an amen over here?”  
My three mates and the waiter said ‘Amen’ all at one enthusiastically. Then there was Max over exaggerating all of a sudden after prolonging moments of silences-- putting his hands together and bowing his head inwards all in prayer. “Alhamdulillah” would’ve been a more comfortable word so as I’m used to saying it but I wasn’t too sure how this fellow really was with exotic words. Uttering anything that may sound strange to others and in addition to being brown meant getting a riot behind your arse. Quite common during my early days in primary school. One of those faulty situations I was warped into is how I met Max. 5 against 1, yelling back at them boiled their rotting blood -- a little brown boy speaking up is what unsettled them. I brought a mixed rice dish the boys in my classroom loathed. They’d try to take it away from me and I pulled back. It was a tug of war and I let go; the rice flipped back on him and boiled his blood some more. Later on after school, they waited for me at Downshill Road past a construction site and came out of nowhere. “In a bit of a rush, aren’t ya?” I’d told them to bog off after many minutes of rubbish talk. The leader of the batch, Harold gave me a punch and to think I was down was quite foolish of them, indeed. I got right back up to give him the old punch in the face. It wasn’t a win as Harold demanded his croods to sick me. There, laying with blood on my face and limbs. Max towered over me “First time?”  
“No, third. Two were from my Dad and believe me, their punches are a bit sissy”  
“They must be if you’re sitting in your own blood” At the time, it’d pissed me off a bit but I remembered I had more to be hacked off at.  
“Whatever, those rotters ought to get a taste of my fists one day.” I swore, which at the time seemed as if it were never to happen  
“Perhaps if it makes you feel any better, they roughed me up as well. Way before you even arrived.” Although, it’d been my first 2 years in Hackney, after having grown up in Tower Hamlets. Only at the mere age of eleven.  
We’d gone home that day together. First, we’d gone to his home and thankfully his parents weren’t home for me to witness their bewilderment. He cleaned me up and painful it was. Cotton and water.  
“Isn’t there alcohol in your home?” I winced. I can still clearly remember Max saying  
“Why would I want to risk a beating?” He was clearly puzzling with me, or perhaps he truly hadn’t known what I meant.  
Solo or not, never in my life will I ever allow a stinking rotter to tamper with me. I held back saying the word, a wuss move. I guess tonight, there’d been a heck of a barney with the rotters and that. Perhaps I’m coming to terms whether I had dealt with the situation correctly or not but the main butter now is I wanted the conversation to continue, alright? I didn’t want the talk to die out. It would eventually. On any day, not once shall I, Gib, ever be so preoccupied with the liking of others but on this day, I am. Strange, is it? Only by this particular fellow. The only other one who’d seem to respect me after all this drag race craze.

“Well, I ought to get going now. Nice speaking with you, fellow lad.” And there he left to go serve some snobby blokes, mithering about the hold up. Tobi was quite surprised that this has been my first good encounter tonight. Well, our encounter.  
“First time you’re not threatening to give the old hand and foot.”  
“Quite a shocker, yes?” Indeed, it was a shocker.  
“Better yet, I can eat my waffles peacefully” Josh said  
“I see someone likes the waffles now.” Tobi boldly said,  
“Sock it, will you? I didn’t even like it at first. I’m just now beginning to savor it.” Josh retorted  
“So if you say, Josh” Tobi said, not believing his nonsense.  
There, Max broke his silence by pointing out that his eyes were getting drowsy, prompting forwardly and his hand resting on his face. No big deal, I wanted to end the night anyways. Take the old train home. Believe me, those screens drain the youth in one. And youthful we are for just a bunch of lads pushing their 30s.  
“Are you fine with ending the night after the munch?” Max said. Tobi and Josh had nothing else to look forward to except Josh insists next time we come around here, we go get some ribs and steaks.  
“Yeah, I’m not too much of a traveller at the moment.”  
We finished eating. We paid our bill and the waiter whom I learned his name was Kismet, gave us a bloody discount and said it was on the house.  
“Thank you. If you may insist.” I tipped the geezer a bullseye. And there it was again, that youthful smile.  
“How so ever can I thank you? Be safe out there, boys.” No need to thank me, fellow geezer. I must move on to my next trip.  
“No need, stay healthy” And then we headed out.  
It was quite windy out, warm too. I felt the breeze envelop my body. Pleasant, is it? I just hoped it wouldn't rain. The rainy weathers left me vexed as a young lad. It reminds me of those times I wasn’t allowed to leave home because I’d trace dirt into the house. I snuck out through the back door once and decided I go play out in the rain. I knew better to leave my shoes in my hands before coming inside. I still received a clean slap at the back of my loaf that day. So clean, it’d made me ruminate my entire life at once. “Ya kelb!” My father’s voice echoed  
These weathers, the warm breeze were weathers I have fond memories of, in spite of how grubby our streets were. To fill the open air, Josh made a rather distinct remark “The old train home?”

“Ye, Josh. The old train home.” I sounded a bit vexed, perhaps I was just tired “ What are you lads doing after we head home?”  
Tobi said he was going to finish fixing his younger brother's bike as he borrowed it on the day of the race after him and Josh decided to make an attempt at ransacking one of the Paul’s mates, Mike Waljak’s motor. Apparently, there’d been a retro speaker from The States they both wanted which Tobi says Josh talked him into and initially wanted no part in this attempt. The bike, of course, is what they used as their getaway if they were to be caught. One would be surprised at how two blokes can fit on one bike.

“The tires are pretty jacked and perhaps Josh would know a butter or two about this.” Josh felt accused and at trial.  
“Listen ‘ere, yeah? You wanted to take part in this. I didn’t think the bike was going to collapse”  
“What did you think was going to happen when two blokes are sitting on an average sized bike?” Tobi narrowly looked at Josh “Besides, you were the one who wouldn’t quit asking me.”  
“No one put a gun to your head, now did they?” Josh argued. They both kept bickering at each other back and forth. Max stopped the bickering.  
“Shut it, will you? Both of you are guilty.” Max said, for a tired person, I didn’t want to be the one to stop anything especially something as wally as Josh and Tobi’s bickering and for that, thank you Max.

Everything seemed to have settled down afterwards, we’d taken the old train home and this was the end of a shining night.


	2. That’s What They All Say  August 8th, 1968

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gib adjusts to his new life but then he receives a weird a telegram from someone and it appears that someone has left him a present at the Law Office from him to pick it up. It takes him and his mates various guesses to find out what could be in the box and little less from who? 
> 
> Gib and Max heavily reflect on their lives and discover that the Rifles are around.
> 
> Moreover, Junkie Allexx makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit like the other one in which you see a walkthrough of their lives

That’s What They All Say

August 8th, 1968

I had a good Bo-Peep the following night. Sweet it was. Angry marks on my forearms and the morning aches were bloody mean too, a good ol’ stretch ought to do it. I left to fetch the newspaper outside and using my loaf wasn’t in my favour whatsoever, I didn’t check the window and the rain came dashing on me. Just as I thought the humid weather would last, ah well. I went back in, a soggy puppy I felt. I settled down on me cushion and surely I missed my old rocking chair. Tobi and Josh, you know how they are. Clumsies of the batch.  
The newspaper is going on about some half-witted hippies on a rampage about peace against the MPS and a 22 story tower block came tumbling down. Goodness me. I always knew there was something dodgy about the way they built those tower blocks and I just don’t know what goes on in the loaf of the municipal government, moving people out of their homes to live in some grubby tower blocks in which the rules play mummy and daddy. You can’t bring this, you can’t bring that. What about me black evertons? They ought to snatch that away too? More than glad I stayed here. Not that I even had a bloody choice to begin with. They could’ve moved me out, but they didn’t. Then I heard a familiar voice shouting from outside my window

“You’re trying to hit the lounge or what!” Ah, Josh. I wonder if Tobi or Max is there too. I rarely ever go to the lounge on early Saturdays but I guess since our pockets are still filled, a dull day at their cats is quite a waste.  
“Yeah, I’m tired of standing ‘ere in this grubby weather.” Well, there’s Max. I walked over to the window and told ‘em I’d be there and Tobi was there too. I took the apple and pears and there I was out, in this grubby mundane weather. I took my coat and the Auntie Ella because that’s how London is with their rains. Max took a fag and blew it out into the open air.  
“We should get going, this weather is giving me the shivers”  
“Strange, is it? We’re never out and about to the lounge in broad daylight” Tobi noted. I was thinking the same, alright.  
“What on earth would we do at our cats than fiddle with our thumbs? “ Josh sourly said  
Weekends were a bore for us since there wasn’t much to do except for Max who runs his uncle’s woodshop daily and just so happen to get someone to cover for him today. On weekdays, however, Josh would spend his days working as a waiter and planning on going to school, then there’s Tobi working as a tailor, and I spend my weekdays as an editor, reading over documents and catching errors, it’s almost like being an exterminator except with literature.  
“Yeah, I guess it’d be quite a waste, wouldn’t it?” It would, despite it being so stinking early. We walked down the footpath of Kingsland Road and are on a twenty minute journey to Dalston. Passing by nearby buildings that were left into rubble from WWII and walking on the coal infested pavement, just as how all Kingsland Road was. A bit of a shiner compared to when I lived in Tower Hamlets, the slums of London. You’ll be damned if you tripped on the footpath and got a cut or two.  
I don’t know why we bother walking in this somewhat chilly rainy weather but it’s how it is, we walk in all kinds of weather, it’s more convenient. On the contrary, snow is something of a no-no or on rare occasions, hail. Anywho, we walked about beneath our Auntie Ellas and Josh underneath Tobi’s one.’Cause the wally didn’t invest in one. Soon, the rain began settling down, leaving the only pecks of rain, I put my Auntie Ella away.

“A bit empty, innit?” Max said. His “empty” is a slight reduction of a usual crowd. There are plenty of people out and about, perhaps people decided to head over to Newham after the crash for whatever reason they’re there for.  
“Yeah, it is a bit. People must’ve headed over to Newham to see the open scene of the crash”  
“Crash?” Josh inquired. They all looked puzzled at what I’d just said, it was early in the morning and they must’ve not heard about it yet.

“Yeah, the crash. The 22 tower block came tumbling down. It was nuts, the building had to be evacuated” A pint of shock surpassed their voices.

“That’s tough.” Josh said in pure bewilderment, with a big huff of surprise  
“Casualties?” Tobi asked  
“17 injured. The other six are brown bread” which was unfortunate and this all could’ve been avoided if it wasn’t even built to begin with.  
“ I blame the government.” Max spat with anger “Now, what on earth were they thinking trying to make tower blocks to quote on quote “better housing”. You can’t even bring a kitten for heaven’s sake!”  
“Agreed. They thought they’d hit a jackpot but look what’s happened now. Fifty shades of disappointment.” Josh said.  
I couldn’t see it somehow but Tobi who'd seem to see through three tunnels rather than one, did

“I may not agree with the idea of the making of tower blocks but I see the butter they’re trying to mix in” Tobi said.

“We’ve got newcomers coming in almost every year, whether they’re from Scotland or Guyana. I can see why they might want to cramm everyone into one tower block, think about it. It’s more convenient and they won’t have to waste such time trying to find a house around here.”  
Tobi’s right after all. Newcomers come in almost every year, roughly 50-80’00 people, many being Bangladeshi, Carribean, African, and very few from Europe. Housing began becoming scarce because they couldn’t fit too many into one borough so they began separating them to other boroughs and it didn’t do much so that was how tower blocks came to be. Tower blocks in which Brits like to call “The Globe '' notorious for immigrants living one.  
Max couldn’t seem to swallow a hook.  
“Nah, they’re still a heck of a barmy for doing whatever they did!”  
Josh shrugged and looked down “It’d be a piss to say I agree” Tobi took whatever they said in spite of thinking otherwise. We headed inside the lounge which is formally called “Peckham’s Barn”. A bit nutty, isn’t it? This could’ve been a more suitable place in the city of Peckham but it’s ours. There it was, a dimly lit lounge with pool, pints, and a board game the boys and I take great keen in.

“Well well, lads. On a break?” Old Man Leo, the owner and great grandson of the founder, Richmond Peckham. He’s been around for as long as everyone else can remember, I’d only met him in my late teens.  
“Nah, we’re off today. We’d just happened to gain a three leaf clover” I said, free time was rare when you worked 6 days a week, 8 hours, and nighttime being the only time when we gathered at this very place making the most of it.  
“Great to hear, lads.”  
We took a seat at the front where beverages are served. The oldies tend to come around these times and Lord knows where they went about in the afternoon. The boys ordered some pints, Max specifically ordered whiskey -- and lemonade is what I asked for. The only other lounge known for selling lemonade in a place where pints are drunk heavily.  
“What is it with you and lemonade?” Josh said,  
“Well, Josh. If you haven’t taken a butchers at my resume yet, I find lemonade something of a delight” I said, “There’s nothing like it when a passing bus splatters your garments with dirt or when your old lady tiptoes off to some bloke from Newham or a rotter from Westminster”  
“That’s like me but with my old whiskey in the fridge.” Max said, He drank the earliest out of the two, he was just about 10 when he saw a half filled liquid glass cup sitting on his kitchen table and the fool’d ended up drinking it. He began drinking it whenever he could when his old lady wasn't in sight. I’ve seen cans of them under the bottom cabinet once when I spent my days after school at his cats and making spit balls and spitting them at nearby people.  
“Oh yeah? And you were what, 10?” Josh with the smart mouth said,  
“Trying to peck on my spine, ya ankle rash? I don’t mix milk with my green tea. I’m surprised you still walk the streets with good use of ya limbs” A branch Max and I can break together. Green tea is revolting with milk, let alone itself. I wouldn’t drink even with a shank at my throat.  
“I’ll have you know, Max, green tea with milk is better than that stinking pint you gulp down on”  
“I bet Jack The Ripper drank green tea.”  
“No, he drank water for sure.” Tobi added  
“All madmen drink water in broad daylight” Josh said  
“So, just about half of London?”  
“Let’s assume that”  
The three kept bickering about beverages. I was sipping down on my lemonade so as I fancied, I was living in a royalty based realm and I, playing king on my own throne. I was too fixed before I heard a voice from my left side,  
“Just water, please.” I looked over to see it was Junkie Alexx from Brick Lane  
“Junkie Alexx?” I said,  
“Nice to see you there, Gib.” Junkie Alexx said, caressing his hair with his one hand. Junkie Alexx wasn’t always around when you wanted him to. He’d be around the vans with his other freak, junky mates distanced from the public greenery so as they wouldn't receive any more complaints about loitering or suspicion.  
The rest of my mates greeted him, they’d been surprised to see him too.  
“Where’ve you been, mate? I haven’t had a butchers at your face in about... centuries.” Josh asked,  
“Walking on a journey, man.”  
“Now, are ya? How about your other mates, how are they doing?”Sometimes, I’d wish someone would stitch Josh’s pooch shut or hit him with a brick once over because he just might do the unexpected. The last time Josh and Tobi viddied Junkie Alexx was when they saw one of his mates OD’ing at the porch of a group house where all the freaks and junkies lived. Poor boy Alexx had waterfalls coming down his face and panicking. While his other mates instigated the whole scene, like this wasn't the first time it’s ever happened.

“They are walking on a journey too, thank you” He said, calmly yet with a hint of irritation  
“Well, it’s nice to see you again, mate.” I said, concluding all of this nonsense.  
“Thank you.” He said calmly “Gib?” Junkie Alexx began  
“Yeah?” I have a feeling he might give me those pick out of the cloud quotes, some of which never make sense to me.  
“A loss is never a loss in which effort is present thus.. continue your journey, man.” It was strange hearing Junkie Alexx making a rather articulate sentence sound so hip.  
“Oh? Thanks.” is all I could really say. Though, grubby blokes & my stinking mates judged him, he was a proper lad amongst all the other freaks and junkies. His words resonated with me a bit and might’ve even softened me, too -- at this very moment.  
“No need, man. It’s an olive branch from me to you.”  
He then commented on our early arrival and it’s understandable, “A bit early, isn’t it”

“Well, why it is. Look at us, in broad daylight sitting here. I kind of like this, it’s much quieter in the morning” I said, “Especially with everybody out and about in Newham”  
“Oh yes, that. One of my walkers was at Newham yesterday visiting his meemaw.” He said,  
Josh and Tobi jumped from their seats a bit and Max stayed composed yet so invested.  
“Really?” Tobi said, interested and shocked at the same time. Junkie Alexx nodded  
“He was on the eighth floor when he heard ruckus coming from the walls above. Shaking and stuff. Luckily, he still remains. Oh and his meemaw too”  
“Oh well, at least they’re alive.” Tobi said, with Josh nodding along.  
“Yeah” He quietly ended it off with.

We sat about, drinking and talking about the next election and debating whether the Labour Party is proper or if they even believed in politics. As most freaks and junkies are, Junkie Alexx doesn’t believe in politics. Boggled we were but he elaborated.

“They’ll never help someone live a better life. You’re submitting yourself to a slave mindset. And you shall set yourself free” He said, fluttering his fingers out in the open air drawing out a rainbow.  
A bit puzzling but that was Junkie Alexx. The part that puzzled me the most was the setting myself free bit. I don’t know what exactly I have to set myself free from but I sure as hell know we’re not living in WWII Deutschland or in this depicted image of the government using us as puppets. I can never get my loaf around the hippies idea of being free or setting yourself one.

Time swiftly passed and it was a quarter past 2 in the afternoon now. I was a bit drowsy and felt like going for another Bo-Peep but I didn’t want to end the day just there. Junkie Alexx left to go hit the Peace & World or in other words, a meetup place at the corner nearby Kliffsfords Park in West Hackney where one of his junkie mates is. Surely, he’ll be living the world soon, I just hope it doesn’t go berserk.

“You know, I never understood that lad.” Josh said, narrowing his eyes in disapproval  
“Me, neither but he’s something alright.” I yawned. He was something indeed. ‘Something’ as in mysterious and I somehow cannot get my loaf around his words in spite of them serenading me at times.  
“Nah, he’s just queer fish alright. They’re all queer fishes” Max said,  
“No, you all just might keep bricks for brains.” Tobi said, “Sure, he’s a bit of a queer fish”  
“A bit?”  
“Whatever. He seems like a wise lad” Max and Josh scoffed at the remark. I’m not sure why it vexed me when they perceived him as just another foolish bloke. He was puzzling to me but he was proper amongst the other freaks and junkies he hung around with.  
“Yeah, wise! Picking out a Rolling Stone or The Beatles lyric is wise!” Josh said,  
“And what? You don’t bother reading a word, Josh.” Tobi said,  
“That has nothing to do with anything. Einstein couldn’t read a single grain of literature but look at where he is now. Or where he went.”  
“Oh he read, Josh.” Tobi retorted  
“Well, that’s not my point. You don’t need to read to be a bloody genius!” Josh raised his voice “You should ask my uncle”  
“You don’t have an uncle.” Max said,  
“Exactly!” Josh shouted “Listen, that bloke isn’t wise. Just an another odd-ball - queer fishing- cow over the moon bloke.” Now, my mates, this is what nits my shoulders a bit, when I can’t seem to understand why someone would want to peck all over someone’s spine like Junkie Alexx. A puzzling bloke he is but a kind one too.  
“Settle down on him, will you? You’re talking about him like he shanked you with a shattered bottle and ran off with your old lady” I said irritably and exasperatingly, surely.  
“Well, that may be but he’s still a queer fish! I still have nightmares.” He moaned  
“Oh, so that’s the damn itch. Listen, I’m sure Junkie Alexx didn’t mean for you to have nightmares but quit picking at his spine for a bit yeah?” I said, “Besides, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen people at near death” Surely I might’ve been a bit of an arse bringing that to mid air but it’s East London, you see all shades of wild here.  
His lips creased into irritation but his eyes wanted to forget somehow.

Silence and yawns are almost all it is now, I rested my head in my arms and shuttered my eyes closed. That grain of a bean tension in the air evaporated when Swift came through the brown doors with a demeanour that sensed there was news. He marched with a paper in his hand  
“Jet Baby Swift!” Josh shouted, then I’d come to know he’d really come and I wasn’t  
dreaming. Josh began calling him that mainly for his dark features and the jet deriving from his stinking jet black hair. His hairs may have been dark but he was pale.  
“What’s going on there, Josh!” He said, then greeted Tobi whom he called Jesse as in Jesse Owens and Max who almost looked out of it. It was almost like a hummingbird in a lions den seeing Swift here. He was a lad you wouldn’t really see hanging around the alley smoking a fag or at a lounge drinking about as we are. You never see him.  
“I have a telegram for you from the Britain Post.” Swift said. Strange hearing those words in my two beers, I’ve never received a telegram but I’ve seen the ones my Father receives from folks in Saudi Arabia. Not that I could ever get it through my loaf what they said.  
“A telegram?”  
Swift said, “Yeah, it was sent to Baba’s place instead of yours. I found it in our mailbox and I’ve got to utter, a plump blueberry I was. I haven’t received a telegram in over a year and I’m beginning to ponder that everyone just thinks I’m brown bread!” Understandable.

“Perhaps, you should step out of the sanctuary for a nicker or two and head out” I said. He was always at the old library in Lower Clapton, walking about --doing what librarians do or at his cats. He’d step out occasionally when he had to go run errands for Baba or when he went to go catch a game of croquet with his accountant and other office mates. Though, he still lives with Baba. An isolation fetish seems to be a common domain for all librarians.  
“I should but hey, it’s not raining no more and my nostrils are living the bit.” Swift said,  
I took a glancer at the paper.

**RECEIVED at:**

**2W3 Lower Clapton Hackney London**   
**395 Arlford St London England**

**CONFIDENTIAL PROPERTY IS BEING KEPT FOR ALI AL-FAKHRY (.)**   
**PICK IT UP AT THE BRITAIN LAW OFFICE LOCATED AT TOWER HAMLETS BETHNAL GREEN ON THE 11TH OF AUGUST**

**18**   
**21**   
**14**

My eyes narrowed. Confidential? Property? Out of all the letters I’ve ever received in my stinking 23 years of my life and this very telegram I take butchers on, it would never occur to me that something like this thing would puzzle me greatly. Greater than usual. It boggles my mind a whole lot that my loaf can’t seem to ring a bell at why something confidential would be waiting for me at this very moment in a stinking law office.

The three and Swift peered at me and Swift towering over me, almost as if I crashed a private meeting. “What’s it say?” Swift asked, I didn’t quite entirely know myself and didn’t know how to explain the damn thing.

“You’re gonna utter or not? What’s it say, damn it!” Josh impulsively asked,  
“I don’t know. “ I said, putting the paper at good view for them to see “Something about confidential property”  
“Confidential property? Sounds like some fed business.” Tobi said, leaning over Josh’s shoulder.  
“What’d you do now, Gibber? Steal a damn tractor?” Josh said,  
“Ah, barmy’s you all are. Let me have a butchers.” Max took the paper, I’ve never had any federal letters. Just paychecks and a police check that my bloody workplace made me get. Max took his reading glasses from his jacket pocket to have a good butchers at this paper that I somehow couldn’t my mind ahold of.  
“Well, Big Gibber. Seems like somethings waiting for you.” He lowered his glasses and looked back up at me.  
“Yeah, I’ve got that in my loaf but from who?” I took the paper and tried to find an address. None to be found.  
“What kind of a telegram doesn’t have an address?” Josh shouted.  
“I don’t know, I hope I won’t have to whip out my magnifying glass.” Tobi jokes, closing one eye pretending to use a magnifying glass. Josh looked at him monotonously  
“A bit dodgy. But I should be asking about what the confidential property could be.” I said, before I can even think about heading over to the law office three days from now. It’d be dodgy if I decided to head over without taking another ponder.  
“You got any family around here? They ever try to send you letters?” Max asked,  
Swift answered as he sat down “Quite frankly, yes. We’ve got two cousins in Brent and our half-brother in Stamfordhill.”  
“Half brother?” Josh said, surprisingly asking “I’ve known you for years and not once have you ever uttered a word about a ‘half brother’. Goodness me, alike Josh, he can’t keep it shut about certain butters. He’s long history and how I wanted to get my two hands on his throat. I gave him a look of contempt and a crazed smile. A given look I got from little yet tall Swift is a look of regret and fear.  
“Well, you can forget about him. He lives quite far from here and you won’t ever see him around” Swift nervously laughed  
“Oh. That’s quite a shame.” Tobi said, “I wanted to see if he looked anything like you”  
“You get what I’m talking about!” Josh says to Tobi. Then there was Max who’d seem to be quite au fait with why Mad Hatter Adam is history and he’ll stay there. He looked at me as we both knew.

“Surely, it can’t be my cousins, I haven’t seen them in several daylights. What could they want with me?”

“I don’t know but let’s just add into the bloody mixer that this confidential property could be something good. It can’t go wrong” Max said “Or perhaps it can”

“Good as in what?” I said  
“These confidential properties tend to be items from late relatives or really anyone you once knew.” Max suggested.  
“So what’re you saying?”  
“I’m saying it could just be a bloody item a relative sent you or a late relative.”  
“Listen yeah? That’s preposterous. Why would any of my relatives want to send me anything? Minus my cousins.”  
“I don’t know, for heaven's sake! Why’s the sky blue?” Max said, contemptly “ You can’t be certain.”  
Josh then suggested to Swift, “Jet, why don’t you ask your old man? Wouldn’t he know a butter or two about this?”  
Swift stood up “Sure, why not?” He fixed his coat and took a puff. “ I’ve got to head home anyway. I’m not working today so I’m just going to read a bit”  
“I always knew you had a fetish for books.” I said,  
“Doesn’t everyone?” Swift said without question  
“Not sure, perhaps ask Josh” Tobi teasing and Josh returning a look of contempt. Swift left.  
We continued to discuss the possibility of what this confidential property could be. Tobi and Max suggested it could be an old jewelry from a relative from two generations ago and decided to pass it on to me. Josh suggested it could be bread which I liked!

“Bread? You certain or playing Jack in the Box with me?” I said,  
“I’m not messing with you, I really think it’s bread.” Josh said, then proceeded to tell a story of his relative getting bread from a late relative as a will “No kidding, it’d happened to my Aunt Jamie’s husbands brother when he passed away”  
“Your uncle’s brother then, right?”  
“Mhm, turns out she was real close with the lad. Chatters say she was at his cats and it wasn’t for getting brown sugar and eggs.”  
“What then?” Tobi asked,  
“I’ll tell ya Tobi. Old guy -- well he was in his mid 30’s got an aneurysm. Soon enough, old lady Jamie got a telegram and before you know it, she’s got all the bread! Boatloads of them.”  
Seems like a bit of a tangled situation but the old lady ended up getting pounds just as Josh said. It wasn’t likely that his situation with his aunt would happen with mine. It just seemed very unlikely.

“I’m surprised your uncle’s brother liked old lady Jamie enough to give him her will” Max scoffed  
“You bet your arse. Old man Ruby was vexed but they figured it out. She’s now got a closet full of feathered coats. You should see what it’s like when I’m over at her cats. Boogers and saliva everywhere.”

I was then beginning to grow tired of this place and wanted to head out. They’d all agreed without a bicker, surprisingly. We paid Old man Leo and walked around Dalston for a bit. Most of Dalston were shops and some were empty so as they went out of business and others were just grubby. Some even had to relocate due to the pinching and ruckus the wild month caused. We decided to walk a few blocks down to an old park in Kinley. Greenery and the wet grass messed with my nose but pleasurably. I can see what Little Swift was going on about. We walked about with nothing to do. Just whistles and cigarettes. It’d seem as if there was nothing to do after this whole race craze and the great bread I’ve got after it. Then, we used to spend our days pinching shops, making spitballs and aiming them at the grubby blokes around the allies of West Hackney, we’d even play checkers like the amateurs we were, to get bread off of it or long distance street race in which Tobi would always win for us which only happened once in a blue moon.  
Then, that’s when I saw the freaks and junkies up at the trees ahead.  
“Ah, what the heck. Take a butchers at this.” Josh pointed out, they began to pull a bag of snow white.  
“Goodness me, not here.” I sighed, though I never really witnessed the freaks and junkies consuming substances myself but suddenly, what I wasn’t thinking before I started to think of now. I wouldn’t want to see one OD at a public park,  
“It’s calm. They’re not gonna bite.” Tobi said, he’d seem to be pretty calm after the whole OD situation months before. After all, that was a prick on the finger to him. He’s witnessed public riots, his old house burned down, and his other negro friends killed by the British Venture Association or the BVA. This was nothing to him.

“Ah, whatever. I’m not trying to see that again, disgusting!” Josh rebuked,  
Max pulled out his fag pouch and offered it to him  
“Need one?” Josh irritably denied and pushed his hand away  
“Fine, I’ll have them myself” Max whispered

We hung around the wooden benches and Max untied his peckham which was inconvenient. I let it poof in the air as boredom was certainly going to be the last of us. Perhaps that’s what led people generations ago to have a lot of deranged madmen walking around the city. It’s not any different now. Then out of nowhere,

“Street racing doesn’t look too bad right now.” Josh said, I wish I could forget that whole race event, it’d seem to tire me out during the course of the months of feuds and business. It was fun for a bit because I’d never gotten an opportunity like this ever but it wasn’t fun as I thought it’d be.

“Yeah, maybe it isn’t too bad. Considering we’re on our arse sighing out of boredom”  
“We might as well scratch our faces off at this point” Tobi said,  
Sure, we may as well. Max continued to look up ahead and blowing his fag out into the open air. I never knew what went on inside his loaf but I guess that’s what good nature and boredom does to a lad.

“You know, speaking of that race. You remember that American bloke you were going up against and his lads.” Max finally spoke and surely, how could I miss a cheeky bloke? A man with his bloody tongue out and screaming with threat like a dying grizzly bear everytime the news press came around and even with the cameras down. I’d always tried to give him a kick up the shin and a mean fist but I was at the brink of disqualification.  
“Well, chatters say they might be fighting Vietnam ” It sounded like rubbish, shouldn’t they have fought ages ago?  
“No way” I said,  
“It’s true. Their old man’s planning to leg it. They could be heading for Canada.”  
“Tough luck, they’re all cheaters anyway.” Josh said. It is said to be true that the Pauls had been warped into a fraudulent affair which was eventually claimed as false -- but it’s no lie that they’ve scammed people and cheated their way to success.  
“Good cheaters. It’s the devil’s work indeed but they’ve managed to get themselves a house 10 times the length and width of our cats.” Which was true and I found it quite unfair but as Tobi said, it’s the devil’s work.

“It’s probably rubbish for all I know. Shouldn’t they have fought ages ago?” I questioned, the Vietnam War commenced in 1955 and we’re years away from a new decade -- to add into the mixer, the Pauls and his mates are between the ages of 23 and 35. Unless I don’t know how drafting works in America, someone should tell me what’s up.

“Well, you see. The war is still on going for now and it seems that they’re still drafting people.” Max said,  
Perhaps, that makes a little more sense but I can’t be for sure. If it’s true, it won't create a dent in my life. Quite a shame it’d be but life goes on.  
“Ah, whatever. If it’s true, a damn thing isn’t going to happen to us.”  
“I’ll still be praying for my brothers” Tobi said, he was pro-black after all and quite fascinated by the movement-- as well as Malcolm X & Martin Luther King Jr. The Pauls however, we could care less.  
“Well, life does continue after all” Josh said.  
“I never even asked where you got this from?” I said,  
“Well you see, my sources remain a mystery but I don’t see why I can’t tell you,” Max said, “ so I know someone’s father who knows another father who happens to be in the military and also has a bunch of business mates who happened to know the Pauls and that’s how I got my sources” I was boggled but well explained there, Max.  
“Goodness me, you know a lot of people”  
“What can I say? I’m a business person myself.” Max blew the smoke out into the open air  
Josh complained about how bored he was getting and I suggested we hang out with the freaks and junkies because that’s where boredom has gotten us to. Josh and Max refused  
“No way! Over my decaying body.” Josh said,  
“Listen yeah? What’re they gonna do? They can’t hurt us or anything”  
“But they can use their bloody hypnotizing rubbish and get us to do whatever they want us to do. We’ll be puppets!” He sounded foolish but you never know what to expect among those types.  
“Whatever, I just don’t want to get up yeah?” Max said,  
However, Tobi didn’t seem to have a fit. I agreed we’d all just go home for the rest of the day because we just weren’t feeling it.

We decided to ditch the park and head back to Kingsland Road. We went our separate ways but Max stook around. We sat on the porch stairs of my cats where newspapers were often thrown and though I was not a smoker, I took a fag. I coughed and coughed. It was an ugly one too.  
“Careful there before you’re brown bread.” Max said,  
“No one ever dies from a ‘first- time smokers’ cough” I said, “Besides your lungs must be grilled by now”  
“Hey, I’m here to live a good life, not a long one” He said, inhaling every bit of that cigarette before stepping on it. It’d suck to see him go and his business would have to shut down with no one to run it. He’s a proper lad too. I’d only ever relate to him just as our demeanours were quite the same which almost never works out with a lot of people.  
“You should quit.”  
“Why would I do that?” The idea sounded barbaric to him and his face showed it  
“You’ll die,”  
Max scoffed “Listen yeah? You’ll find another lover.”  
“Now, you’re just taking the piss” I laughed. “No, really. Cancer is a terrible calamity. You’re no different than the freaks and junkies by poisoning yourself.”  
Max narrowly looked at me “ Isn’t this coming from the lad who was just cheekboned deep into a cigarette a blink ago?”  
“Several blinks ago” I corrected him “Besides I don’t smoke regularly,this is my first time anyways.”  
“That’s what they all say” Max said,  
I felt a bit bad judging him for smoking, I’ve seen a lot of good lads lost to cancer and other stinking ailments.  
It was all silence now.  
“You sticking around?” I asked, twisting my fag into the cement-- leaving it to ashes  
“Yeah, I haven’t got much to do. My uncle’s doing other work and I’m certain he won’t need me for it.”  
“Oh alright then. I guess we sit here then”

But then Max asked, “Why can’t we go back to throwing rocks and aiming spitballs at people?”  
“Who says we couldn’t?” I smirked  
“I don’t know, it’s been a little grey today. And that whole race was a bit wayward if you tell me.”  
“What do you mean?” At first, I don’t see what the day had to do with the race but perhaps it did after all.  
“I don’t know. That whole preparation bit--the news press and the public. It might’ve been fun for Tobi and Josh but it was a little strange to me. Seeing foreigners sticking their tongues out and causing ruckus” I laughed,  
“I mean Americans are a bit loud. Others simply need a kick to the arse”  
“Like that Jakob lad?”  
“Exactly.”  
“Yeah, that whole race was all too much. Too much all going at once. Just a bunch of a bread thirsty blokes” He pulled another fag out in spite of our chat earlier.  
“Weren’t we money thirsty people at one point?”  
“Yeah, a bit. We didn’t have a lot you know.” Max said “Those American blokes must have a lot more than we did two years ago. And look at us now with a bunch of bread.” I did decide I wasn’t gonna keep it in the trunker or under the bloody mattress. I couldn’t be sour no more to see my mates working day and night with great fortune in my hands.  
“Perhaps, ” I sighed, I was bored after all. “But hey, don’t look at yesterday. Look at us now. We’re better off, aren’t we?”  
He shrugged “Surely.” He said with full uncertainty.

It got late eventually.

9 in the evening with the warm lights and my black evertons sitting by the stove. I took the cup of my evertons as I read the rest of the newspapers from daylight, though it was a bit of all the rubbish. Just waffling about further construction and renovations of old homes and building new ones. The efforts alright but leave it out, will ya?  
I heard a knock from my door and I wondered who could it be coming to meet me at 9 in the evening. The boys went home and we wouldn’t be going back to the lounge after today. You can never be too sure.  
“Who is it!” I shouted at the door. They kept knocking. Dodgy, I sensed.  
“I said who is it!”  
I walked to grab my Auntie Ella sitting by the coat hanger. I discreetly walked over to the door and held my Auntie Ella like it’d save me from a shank or a bullet but it just might.  
I slowly opened the door and then swung it back.  
It was Swift again,  
“Goodness me, you scared the bloody wits out of me!” I shouted  
Swift put his hands up in surrender  
“Settle your pairs. It’s not like you had any wits to begin with”  
I exhaled and lowered my Auntie Ella down. I was annoyed and relieved but what could Swift be doing here?  
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” I said,  
“Well you might want to sit down for this.” He sounded foolish but again I wondered just a bit what Swift could be doing here. He came over every now and then for a visit but not whatever this is.  
“No, I’ll stand here. Speak.” I demanded  
“ Fine, The Rifles are back.” Swift exhaled and looked a bit knackered.  
I couldn’t adam a word he was saying. Rubbish, it is. They haven’t stepped foot in East London for as long as I can remember. Stinking rotters lived in Westminster and after the wild month, they wouldn’t dare to step foot.  
“Rubbish” I said, “They wouldn’t dare. Especially what happened less than 50 daylights ago”  
“I’m not waffling around, Gib. They’re really here. I don’t know what but one of my mates, Simon saw it with his two pies”  
“Geeky Simon?”  
“Whatever. He went to Mile End to meet a relative and later used the public telly to call one of his other mates if he could borrow his motor to go drive up north.”  
“And then he saw them?”  
“No. He saw them when he walked by a record store and was ogling the open display. Simon saw their reflection from the mirror and turned to see it was them.” He said “In their stinking pricy tailored whistlers.”  
“My main butter is they’re back. And I don’t know what but I sense there’s gonna be a heck of a barney”  
I sighed “Goodness me, if that’s the case.” I walked over to my cabinet and looked under it to get my black box with a silver lock and the key as well.  
“You see this?”  
Swift looked puzzled  
“Yeah.”  
“Listen, Little Swift. I don’t play Jack in the box nor do I play Duck, Duck, Goose. Now if you’re messing with me and I go out there with Killer Jack in my hand. Chances of me doing time in the pit is 50-50 only if I’m caught with it. Which the chances are great because I’ll have to pull it out every time I see a stinking rotter with fancy whistlers. They don’t come around here so I’ll know. You better be telling the truth”

It wasn’t a simple rolling the dice or aiming spitballs at grubby blokes, it was a big time. Stinking rotters were all over at the West End but these were rotters looking for barney. Rotters who played with shanks and hot fires. Wussies only used them to make them seem a bad character but these rotters came over here for two reasons: Blood & Bread.  
We had a shootout in early July, the wild month. Just a few weeks before my big race. They came after Viddal, an old mate of mine who supposedly had a weight of bread sitting at his shoulders that he had to give. He gave it to them but they’d expected more which was rubbish to me. The old guy’d already given you the bloody bread, what is it now? They began hovering over Viddal—I jumped from my seat and told them to bog off. Then my mates tiptoed in and we were outside throwing hot fires and my Killer Jack. Hiding behind walls as we shot them. The bulky black rotter went in and shot Viddal twice in the back and left. Then that was it.  
They wouldn’t dare to come back. Not after this.

Swift stuttered “ I-I’m not waffling around. I told you.”

“You better not” I sighed and gave a crazed smile that so happened to shake his wits.  
There was a short silence after and Swift stood there.  
“S-so. Can I stay?”  
“What the hell are you being all queer for? Sit or leave.” Little Swift might be a little shakened now. His face reads it. I don’t see why he’s being like this but I’m guessing Little Swift has always been a queer soft-ball. Perhaps I showed him the black box with Killer Jack in it or he sees war coming. He’s right if he thinks it because if they do come. It’ll be another world war.

We sat at my cushion and stared into the wall with silence in the bloody atmosphere.Is that all it was now? Silence? What’s going on?  
I didn’t have a television, it was just the stinking newspaper. I didn’t have a retro speaker either. Ah well, I hear televisions kill your brain cells. It explains the rotter nature of the rotters of the West End. It’s the wall we look at now.  
I looked over at Swift who looked out of it.  
“Swift?” I asked. He hummed.  
“You got work tomorrow?” He then looked over at me with a blank stare  
“Yeah” He moaned “I don’t like that I have to work and flinch every time I hear a loud shot.”  
I gave him a pat and shake on the shoulder  
“Ah, don’t fret. It’s nothing to jitter about. You’ll be fine”  
“I know that but what about you and those other people?”  
I gestured my hands in confusion “What about me and the others? Listen yeah? You don’t worry. No one's dying.”  
“How do you know? Viddal almost died. That lad hasn’t stepped out his home in weeks and still in quite of a bad shape”  
“He’s fine, yeah? He ain’t dead and I ain’t either.”  
“Hey, all I’m saying is watch your back. These situations almost never end well and I don’t you to be a victim”  
I laughed at the word “Victim? I ain’t no victim and will never be”  
“That’s what they all say” Swift said, it echoed into my loaf somehow. It reminds me a little of what Max said about my smoking regularities and how I said it was my first time. Is that where Swift is going with all of this?

“Leave the excessive pondering out, do that for me. Get some sleep too, you seem all jittery and down”  
Swift got up frustratingly, “Call me when you’re dead.” And slam the door shut,  
“Well, farewell then.” I said and chuckled a bit. On a fresh air of silence, Swift’s pouting and fuss is what fills the room. These situations always left Little Swift all pouty and worried. I see it a bit after all, when you’re all cocooned at your cats and only ever at the stinking library. You only ever see so much. I then took out a fag and headed for the window with it in my mouth. I watched the young neighbourhood menaces fiddling around with firecrackers and throwing them onto the road. One would think they would be in bed while their mummy or daddy reads them a bedtime story but hey, it’s 9 almost 10 in evening and it’s early.

I took a magazine in front of the piles scattered all over the side table beside the cushion. The newspapers were beginning to get rubbish, with their mentions of me and that stinking race. First week were storms of interviewers and reporters, I’d only given them my final word “I’ll be on my way out. Might come back or something. Until then, farewell...damn scoundrels.” I recall that stinking day, at mid recovery from the body aches and my fractured fingers. One would be boggled at how I didn’t have a fractured nose, broken ribs, or broken legs. I say it was a minor crash, everybody else wanted to make it seem a catastrophe when it was a prick on the finger. Well, a broken finger.  
This newspaper I held in my hand was a cricket newspaper “Finest England Cricketers” I could’ve left this to Swift but I read it anyway. The title says it all, it really was about cricketers. It was just about their background and records. If there’s one way to sleep, reading cricket magazines ought to do it. My eyes began getting all drowsy and there I was sound asleep.


	3. Three: Tough Luck  August 9th, 1968

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gib finally discovers what’s in the box.

Three: Tough Luck

August 9th, 1968

There I was sound asleep with a stinking cricket newspaper over my face when I heard banging on my door. Bang bang bang!  
My pies shot open and still heavy from the long Bo-Peep I had, eye crusts scattered up and down my eyelashes. I rubbed them and walked to the door with my wife beater and striped boxers on. I rested my shoulders against the door with my hand holding the door knob  
“Who is it?”  
“Just open the door for heaven's sake!”  
“Max?” He walked in as soon as I opened the door. He looked like he was on the brink of hair loss and wrinkles looking down and rubbing his head. What’s his issue?  
I looked at him with bewilderment because that’s what I was, bewildered.  
“What’s with you?” He was pacing back and forth.  
“I can’t adam it, I can’t adam it” He kept saying “Didn’t you hear? Those stinking rotters are back”  
This is what Swift’d already told me this the night before and I didn’t believe it entirely at first simply because it was foolish. It would take a lot of guts to come back after what happened. It could be true after all, you’d never see Max pacing back and forth and looking a bit stressed.  
“Yeah? Little Swift told me. And believe me, it was rubbish” I told him,  
“Rubbish? Locals from the nearby shack at the woodshop are saying they’re around.”  
“Oh, perhaps he wasn’t waffling around then.” I said, “Well, I don’t know but if they’re really here. We might as well use our loaf for something because they’re only here for two reasons”  
“Blood and Bread”  
“Bullseye!” I exclaimed,  
“Listen, we’ll settle it out. Tell the boys to bring their gear. Pocket gear. We’re not trying to get time in the pit.” I said,  
“Sure, but we shouldn’t move too fast. We can’t even be certain if they’re really here”  
“We can’t also be certain that they aren’t here. They could be right around the corner for all we know.”  
“Right. Goodness, I might need to sit down. I ran here.” He stumbled onto the cushion  
I chuckled “ Why? You could’ve walked. Running here to inform me is a bit barmy.”  
“No, a bulldog chased me on the way here.”  
“Goodness, I haven’t seen those since primary school”  
“You’d be surprised, they’re still here.”  
Max looked at the newspaper beside him “What’s this?”  
“A cricket newspaper I was reading to sleep . I should’ve left it to Swift but it can only help a lad so much”  
“Oh I was beginning to think you were a cricket head”  
“Goodness me, it’s already difficult watching cricketers with those titanic sized knee pads”  
“And I reckoned Canadian Hockey had the worst fit” We laughed  
It almost reminded me of something.  
“You know, Max.” I began “ You really think those American lads are legging it to Canada”  
“I’m certain. I mean, I would. Who would willingly leave their life of riches only to live in a grubby tent and hide behind bushes while shooting some Viets? And not to mention, the beans.”  
“Ah, the beans.” I said, “Well, it’s a shame that’s happening. It’d stink if their college lives were to be discontinued.”  
“The Pauls? I don’t think they need college, Gib”  
“I mean the other people. I think the Negroes have it the hardest though”  
“Yeah, Hose sprayed on them and eyeballed wherever they went”  
“Sounds familiar.”  
“Right. Minus the hose. We don’t move mad that way.”  
“You think? Brits are mad, kicking sand into the negros eyes”  
“That too. Tobi thinks it’s nothing.” Max said,  
“His home was burned and a relative of his was murdered in cold blood. His skin must be made of steel now”  
“It’s always been,otherwise he would’ve a bit of a softie like Junkie Alexx”  
“Or Swift” We chuckled  
Then, Max brought something into mid air.  
“Oh, forgot! You’re going to the law office today. Aren’t you?”  
“No, two days from now. I can’t bring my loaf around at what must be waiting for me.”  
“Yeah, it’s a bit dodgy but I’d still go. It could be from an old relative of yours”  
“Perhaps. I want to believe it’s bread” I chuckled  
“I wouldn’t take it from Josh. This is the same bloke who mistook a hammer for a hammerhead.”  
“He is a bit of a fish head. No, really. Josh has a bit of something for fish.” I said, “But what if it’s bread? That’ll set me for life”  
“If it is, then have a go at it but don’t get all excited, alright? We don’t know”  
“We’ll crack the nutshell two days from now, shall we?”  
“Indeed, Mr. Seven Figure Gibber” Max said, imitating a commentator's voice. 

We sat on the couch for several minutes, looking up at the chestnut brown ceiling. I’ve always liked brown, a cozy colour it is. It was all silence before Max made his return to the shop and I would later take a walk to the lounge. Everything is all strange now, right? Taking trips early in the morning. It’s all too parallel. Dalston is much fuller than yesterday. You know, I couldn’t get my loaf around what the good was of seeing an open crash. People died. If I wanted to see one, I could’ve gone to Brixton instead. They’ve got 9 lives. I sat down at the front and saw Old man Leo smiling about like he always did. It never goes. 

“How’s it going there, Gib?” Leo asked. He cleaned the cups as he spoke with a towel over his shoulder.  
“Nothing. Sitting about.” I said, “Dalston is a lot fuller today”  
“It is. Must’ve gotten bored.” Leo said,  
“These people always get bored. See one open crash and skeet. No regard.”  
“Yes, no regard. But it’s how it’s always been, Gibbo. People are here for the fun and leave. ” Leo said, “Perhaps that’s how all my ships ended  
“Ah, Leo. You’ll find another lady” I laughed,  
“I’ll worry about ladies when I’m done with the business.” He laughed.  
Leo’s eyes flashed almost like he remembered something. He threw a newspaper at the counter.  
“What’s this?”  
“Read it yourself”  
I read the headlines and surely it wasn’t too shocking but a bit surprising. Big and bold it read “The Paul’s Involved Money Laundering Scheme”  
“Goodness me.” I said, “What the heck did they get themselves into?”  
“I asked that myself. This is nothing new.” Leo said, “Only difference is it was reported and claimed”  
“Tough luck for them.” There’s not much you could say to such news. Bread filled blokes are often warped into this kind of stuff. Nothing new.  
“You know. It would’ve made a lot more sense if it said they legged America.” I said,  
“I’ve heard. Max tell you that?”  
“Yeah. There’s this whole Vietnam hysteria going on in the West. People are legging it”  
“Poor guys, they might be getting drafted. They’re old enough, aren’t they?”  
“Just about my age. Couldn’t I have been two decades older, Lord?” I never liked it being the same age as them. It gave the oldies a reason to see us as inferior. A shame it is.  
“You never know, they might be legging it after all.” 

Well, whatever it is they’ve gotten themselves warped into. It isn’t my butter to add into me mixer. I continue on with my journey or whatever it is I have to continue.

Leo served his customers. More entered the lounge as the afternoon began setting in. Then the evening. I’d stayed here talking to the fellow lads behind me. Josh and Tobi never came. Neither did Max who works quite often. I bounced eventually and returned to my cats. I used the keys and a chain with the Saudi Arabian flag and headed in. I checked all four locks before reading the newspaper and magazine before Bo-Peep. You never know what goes around here in Dalston. Pinching is a profession to some of these people out here. I’ve done it myself at one point. 

A few cloud passes later, a daylight away from the grand revelation. My loaf moves as a bloody spiral does from what this property could be. To add into the mixer, The Rifles might be roaming the footpath at this very moment or gulping away at their pints, somewhere at a lounge far enough.  
A quintuple of barmys if they had the mere wit to head over to Peckham’s. Any lad or fairly, those rotters know that’s our nightly haven. Our domain to a place where we spend our lost nights.  
I read the newspaper some more, in regards to that scoundrel of an American. It turns out he’s been passing money to a drug lord to bring drugs across the border. He claimed it false but shortly the feds found 20k American dollars worth of drugs in his suitcase. He is to attend a hearing a week from now. Tough luck for him, he couldn’t just ask a street bloke for some?They keep it on the low if anything, I can’t use my two pies to foresee the centre point of going through all that trouble.

There are matters I have to worry about. Aside from all the circus that’s happened, there isn’t much to do now, is this what bread filled blokes are like? Or do they hold their cup of wines so delectaly and giggle about the yachts and jewelry they own? Although, 10k was the jackpot I clawed from that bloody race. A race I wish to forget. That is more than enough for me and my mates. Like I said before, they don’t give good quid to small time editors here. Now, what others overvalue is what I acquire and I’ll take good of it, surely. 

August 11th - Revelation Day

Early I had awoken, my pies weren’t drowsy a bit. I had a bizarre dream the other night, one I couldn’t find fit the puzzles pieces to. A mustard field stood before me. Bright and so full of life, it called to me. Junkie Allexx came into the view and strange it was, but I didn’t care. He then said to me “You’ll find it here, even if it takes a century.”  
The dream left me boggled. Staring into the wall blankly into the calm striped wall of mine.  
I shouldn’t do much pondering. Something as rubbish as a dream and I say again, a dream brings no bloody basis into this dusty and real footpath I stand over.

I walked around Dalston for a bit, looking for something I missed. Everything in the atmosphere seemed off and it’s been that way for a week or so. It seems that I should find something but what? Well again, we shouldn’t do much pondering on the insy matters when I should be seeking the revelation on what this confidential property should be.

3:00

I stand inside at a busy law building in Bethnal Green. Busy people walking about in a prissy manner, having something to do for the day. I walked to one of the office tables with the secretaries and she then handed me a number  
“You are to walk down at the end of the hallway, take a right and room 235A will be at your service. Good day.” 

An array of doors stood erect and as red and gold as they were. Men and women in grey suits walked about. Others carrying racks of boxes which appeared to have been files. I was in the 220 unit which means I was getting close and soon there was room 235, the room where the very mystery is to be debunked.  
A man in a suit stood beside the door with composure. He stopped me before I could go in.  
“Name?”  
“Ali-Al Fakhry.” Then escorted me in. A leather duffel bag or purse, which seems to be much appropriate, rested atop on the table. I opened the bag wide and a petite box with a combination lock surfaced above, laying in my very hands. Something as petite as this would come out of a rather large duffle or purse. Bloody hell,  
A combination lock.

I was unsure what the combination could be and it boggled me a bit, how was I sent a box only for me to figure out the combination and would only take me a million tries. I asked the man  
“You know anything about this combination lock?”  
“No, it isn’t my box. I figured you’d know.”

Now this is just taking the piss. How am I supposed to get my loaf around a stinking combination lock and will be brown bread before I figure it out.  
But then I remembered the telegram I received. The numbers plastered at the bottom, that could just be the combination lock. Except I didn’t have it on my hand at the moment. I didn’t want to make the long journey back and yes I know, I’ve waited this long for the revelation but we’ll just have to wait another day. We’ll call it a butter and go on ahead tomorrow.

——

“Let me get this all in order, yeah? You had a longing intention to see the property for yourself and you didn’t?” Max said, putting his whiskey down and looking at me all baffled  
“Well, it would have been a long journey back. So, I called it a day.”  
“Beyond me it is. You ever seeing it again?” Josh said  
“No, Josh. The box is all the way in India and belongs to a lad named Raj.” I said,  
“Calm your anchors, will ya? Just a ponder.”Josh responded,  
“I still think the box could contain  
jewelry in it?” Tobi noted  
“What would Gib do with some shabby jewellery?”  
“Not sure. These properties are often jewelry or personal gifts. Rarely quids.” Tobi said,  
“He could be among the few” Josh said “I’ve never even gotta ask, Gib. How’d the box look?”  
I figured I didn't begin with the cycle of falsehood or the like. Believe me, I’ve only done it to keep a smile on Joshy boy’s face and only for him to appear more of a fool. Not that I often did that.  
“Sorry, Joshy boy. It wasn’t a box that could’ve filled a million.”  
“Rubbish.” He pouted  
“What did I tell you!?” Tobi said, in an approving manner and Max looking at him as well  
“A check perhaps?” Josh hoped  
“Maybe but it can’t mean it’s jewellery either”  
“I say truth.” Josh exclaimed  
“And I call rubbish” Tobi retorted  
“Or how about both of you could be getting yourselves all silly about this?” Max speaking after many moments of silences “Tobi’s guess seems bloody solid than yours but we can’t be so au fait, yes?”  
“Perhaps.” Tobi said and Josh shrugging  
“I say it could be an old Shakespeare book, Macbeth to be specific” Max said so passionately and contradictingly  
“Goodness me,” Josh said with a clean head palm


	4. The Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gib tells Max what he found and shortly someone breaks in.

August 12th 9:00

I eventually picked up the box at the office, the one I so hopelessly waited for. And needless to say, I was way off my bonkers when I thought something spectacular was going to come up in the box. A pouty geezer, I was that night.

“Can you Adam and Eve it? The stinking box had jewelry in it just as Boy Tobi said.” I said with the phone at my ear as I stood over a stove making some Rosie Lee.

“The guess wasn’t all too rubbish after all. It was a possibility” Max said

“Max, now I want you to explain this to me like I’m in primary school and tell me what on this grubby soil am I going to do with a necklace.” I, now holding it and I hate to see it.

“Cherish it. You’re not gonna throw it away, are you?” Max said,

“Well, what else am I going to do with it? Might come in handy if I ever decide to go to one of those theatres in Leicester Square but yeah it’s of no use.”

“I say keep it. You can’t be so certain of its worth”

“Well I call rubbish.”

“Call it a wanker if you’d like.” Max laughed

Then Max began surfacing the topic of that American bloke and the scandal

“Listen yeah? We don’t yap about that. He’s a dim witted ninny and deserves what he gets. And no, I doubt he’s going to Vietnam. No more of this yeah?” And there our goodbyes

10:00 it was and listened to the radio about rubbish discussions about insulation and news about the block towers. The construction continues. This is all nonsense, tower block collapses and they build more. Too much rubbish for the night, the black tea is getting cold.

I heard a bang on the door, I was unsure as to who would come around here at 10. I grabbed the Auntie Ella by the door and no one was there. Just a note. I was careful to even touch it, people have found new methods to drug people. The note read,

**Dear Gib,**

**Rifles are around. Be aware.**

**Signed, Viddal**

My eyes narrowed reading the name. I haven’t heard from Viddal since the incident in July. It wasn’t possible that he could’ve walked over here, he now had the back of a 70 yr old geezer. He may have sent one of his mates to bring it over, surely. He must’ve wanted to reach the news, boy must be frightened now. This is old news however, but all good. No harm has been done yet, I’ll look out for myself. The Rifles ought to be at the receiving end of my Killer Jack.

Shatters.

Glass shatters echoed out into the open space. Goodness me, what could it be now? A circus all happening at once and the patience to handle a demon is simply beyond my scope. Now it is followed by tables tipping over. Muggers, I figured.  
Under the cabinet I bent over and grabbed Killer Jack in the black box. On most occasions I’d grab the umbrella but a shot would scurry them away, surely. I snuck over, all tiptoed and hush hush like. Standing by the door and barging in, and no muggers. No one; but a shattered vase stays on the very ground, pieces of the vase scattered. The window was open but it was far too high for someone to have climbed up here, with nothing for the rope to hold onto. I examine the room a bit detective-like. Now, I’m thinking, this can’t be The Rifles. It hasn’t even been a blink since Viddal sent the word out and just now,I’m beginning to get a little over my head. It irks me to admit The Rifles are capable of breaking into places and legging it without any pig traces on them. Am I allowing them to fiddle with my wits? I ought to leave the paranoid hunch or I just may be brown bread.

Five: The Break-in

My Killer Jack is gripped securely and I kept walking quietly step by step over to each stinking corner of the room, I peered around and couldn’t see a hint of meat sticking out. Nothing. Tea Leaf’s a good hider.  
I slowly made my way towards the door of the room and quickly looked behind it with my Jack pointed to the air. Nothing there. I tried taking an eye to the closet door where all my valuable whistles and ones & twos and some of which I take over to the West End. I open the two doors to the closet and slap the hanged clothes left and right and you-name- it to witness nothing but a blank wall at the end. I sigh all out of frustration and relief but luckily at least I won’t have to put Killer Jack into use.  
It must’ve been the wind, weather here can become a bit way-out sometimes. I lower my shooter and the freezing cool wind begins to cover my arms and shivers surpass my upper body now. I walk to close the window and call the crazed East London a day, I wasn’t even going to clean away the rubbish on the floor and leave it off until the next daylight. I stare at the wall after dusting off my hands, I have become immersed in wandering away at my head and poof into a different realm, not much people know I’m a thinker, otherwise the mates would say I’m a Junkie Allexx in the making. My Baba always said thinking is good but too much of it would make me a twit and perhaps that was the most sensible and less brutal thing he’s said in my life. Everything is all too silent,then suddenly.

I take a step back and feel a brick wall on my back and pears of feet. My pies shoot open like confetti and swing myself over behind me along with my Killer Jack out. My animal instincts have taken over and now my wits seem to be of no use as panic becomes my endeavour. I butcher to see a figure and jump back, accompanied with a loud shot in their direction to scurry them away. My focus was out of the spot. I hear with my two pies inaudibles sentences from the crook, probably because my ears rang like a bell. I reckon I busted them. A tall man, probably blonde, doesn’t look too familiar either. He had his hands up in a frightened way, stepping back.

“You ought a sling yer ‘ook, you sneaky berk!” I shouted, waving my shooter “You’ve come to the wrong flat!”

The geezer held up his hands in a surrendering manner,

“Wait, wait! Listen man, I don’t mean any harm alright?” Something popped up in my loaf, he sounded much too like someone from the race and quite frankly, that could've been any of those foreigners there. With my Jack still pointed at him,

“Do me a favour or two and flick the lights on behind you, yeah? I ordered him to do it. I hate to admit that my vision isn't the prettiest trait, I did inherit it from the old man himself after all. And so he did what I told him to do,

“Now turn around.” He did. I squinted my two eyes a bit adjusting to the light and my pies could not adam the presence before me. Jumbled, my head has become--the very man standing before was the same American Bloke, the bread filled vain bloke I lost ‘devastatingly’ so eloquently-put by the papers, to the race. It was Jakob Paul. What on this grubby soil was this geezer doing here?

“Have you gone mad? Huh? What are you doing here?!” I shouted,  
“Lower your gun for heaven's sake, you’re gonna shoot me!” He shouted back,  
“I don’t know where you’re filthy rodent self thinks you are, but I doubt you ought to give me orders in my own flat, now get on with the question. What are you doing here?” I said,

“Listen,” He began with his voice shaky and all “It’s a long story”

“No, you listen. You broke inside my flat like a Tea Leaf, made all this rubbish on the floor, nearly doing me in with a heart att-” I paused  
“Time is valuable. You have a loaf or two for a concept like value? You’re wasting my time. Now, sling your hook before I do you in with the broken piece on the floor, yeah?” I said,

He looked a bit messed himself, all disheveled and the like, a bit knackered out too if I want to add. I began to wonder what was occurring at this very moment but I may have to rough him up and fix his limbs for the night he’s made.

“I’m on the run.” He straightforwardly said with a hint of worry or disappointment, “The feds are after me for a laundering scheme I was involved in. Feds think I’m the one who brought the drugs over. Those bastards set me up!”

“Do what?” I questioned. I didn’t understand a thing he was babbling about at first but then I remembered the newspaper headline I took a butchers on at Peckham’s, the goon had busted himself into a laundering & narcotics crime and now under investigation for it. “Okay, so what are you trying to get on with here? You want me to hide you? You’ve lost it.” I scoffed.  
I wasn’t all up for covering up someone elses rubbish, especially if pigs are on their tails. To add on, this is the same bloke who did everything in their power to tarnish my reputation for some large stacks of pounds. And the rumours about them taking parts of my vehicle out as a means of losing the race and could’ve nearly made me brown bread? Sounds about de jure.

“Please. I’ll pay you in return” He begged, sweating and all. Boy, did he really look out of it. I almost felt bad.

“Leg it, Paul. I want none of it.” I said, he sighed and looked around the room in panic, knowing he had nowhere to go to hide from the pigs looking for him abroad.

“Fine. I’ll just go somewhere else.” He said, “Are there at least any buses running around this time?”

“There aren’t any buses running around this time, it’s past 10.”

“Fine, I’ll take a cab.” Jakob quietly said, he began walking away. I was still baffled and stupefied at his presence-- it did seem a whole lot like a fever dream. An American entrepreneur under investigation for money laundering and drug possession, a popular crime taking place at the other side of the world, is now at my flat. How does that become so? This globe is truly a baffling one.

I’d forgotten for a second he already walked away when he suddenly asked from afar “How do you open this door?”

Goodness me, I feel something in my head. A shallow panicky feeling when I’m at guilt. Like when I used to steal Josh’s tuna sandwich at lunch during secondary days and later finding out he didn’t have much food to munch on at the time when he lived with his Old Man. That type of guilt. I didn’t dig the feeling one bit. Is my subconscious suggesting something? That I let the bloke in? No, this is his battle and isn’t too distinct from the rotters in Westminster. He is vain and greedy and he must clean his own rubbish

But.

Even though I do live on Kingsland Road which in comparison is less violent than where the mates live. It does still get all petty and thuggish here. I suggest that this bloke has probably done nickel-and-dime stuff in the past but he seems like he hasn’t been around much trifling. He’s an outskirts kid and the most he’s probably seen was someone from another neighbourhood losing their purse. Yikes, It boggled me that a naive-empty headed person like Jakob could go out there and become  
succumbed to this gritty life. Something a younger Gib wished he could’ve avoided.

“Forget it, I found how to open the door.” He said. I couldn’t believe that I was about to do this but,

“Wait.” I shouted to him from my room to the front door and was silent from there. I walked up to the front door with him still sweaty and now standing at a closer view, he looked much redder under the eyes. With his hand still on the knob, “Listen, I’m not covering for you alright? Whatever’s out there isn’t the prettiest right now.” When is it ever pretty? “You can sleep on the couch tonight but you better be gone by 7am on the dot. You ‘ere me?” I said, making the point glass-like.

I witnessed the serene come over him, smiling and sighing out of relief. Is this what American Joy looks like? “I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”

“Well, you can start by cleaning up the mess in my room.” I said, somewhat dissolving the moment of relief “And then of course, go for a Bo-Peep. Broom and dustpan’s in the kitchen. I’m going in for a Bo-Peep. And fix the door, will you? Don’t want a second break in, if you have a grain of care.”

I wasn’t digging this hour one bit, my blood pressure is out of the Earth’s atmosphere and I take an overwhelming sigh, a sigh that symbolizes all the rubbish I’ve had to carry throughout these last couple of weeks. I hated everything about it. I sure would love to go in for a sleep but this bug came in and caused it. I fixed myself a calming Rosie Lee and with the phone atop on the stove from when Max dialled in earlier. By then, the acclaimed fugitive has cleaned away the rubbish and finally I can return to my room. He threw the pieces away in the trashcan. “And turn the lights off.” I said, making my way to my room.

“Thank you.” Jakob genuinely said,

“Bugger.” I kept walking.


End file.
